


Life Sucks, But Friends Can Help You Through It

by WonTon_Lady



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Incredible Hulk - All Media Types, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Domestic, Domestic Avengers, F/F, F/M, Gen, This is fluff, sometimes you need a happy fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-27
Updated: 2016-07-02
Packaged: 2018-06-04 19:27:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6672556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WonTon_Lady/pseuds/WonTon_Lady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes life sucks. A lot. It's good to know there's someone that has your back in the moments you really need a friend by your side. These are stories of the Avengers being there in moments like that.</p><p>I do not own these characters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. All the World is a Stage

This is it.

I took a deep breath and shut my eyes. I did exactly what Caroline had instructed me to do in moments like this. I breathed in, counting slowly to ten, and tried to focus on something other than the panicked feeling rising in my chest. I thought about the smooth cotton of my wrap skirt, the way it gently brushed against my legs as I swayed side to side back stage, the feel of the cool breeze rushing in from a cracked door at the other end of the room, the jingling sound of my partner's bracelet as she pinned her flower on to the side of her bun.

Finally, I opened my eyes and looked at my surroundings. My classmates have already lined up behind the curtain in their assigned spaces. A few were fixing the straps of their black leotards or bent down to adjust their pink tights before our queue to walk out on stage. I walked over to my spot between a dark skinned girl with sweet brown eyes and a younger girl with beach blond hair and pretended to readjust the flower clip in my hair.

It wasn't that I was nervous. We've been practicing this routine for weeks and I felt very confident in my ability to perform it on stage. 

The problem was the audience, the fact that out of all those hundreds of pairs of eyes, not a single one was there to witness me dance on stage.

_"...Now, performing the Dance of the Baby Swans form the famous ballet 'Swan Lake', give a warm round of applause for our very talented girls -"_

I shook those thoughts from my head and looked over to the three other girls in my row. They nodded at each other in turn and I nodded back. We reached out and reached out and crossed hands, holding the other girl's hand tightly to make sure neither of us fell out of line.

Finally, the familiar orchestra tune of the Four Little Swans began to play as the curtain raised.

Together, the four of us stepped out in to the hot bright light of stage. And then, we began.

_Cou de pied right devant, change coupé back and front, cou de pied left..._

It was easy to get lost in the sound in the sound of the violins and the synchronized moments of our carefully orchestrated dance. Each of us turned our heads at the right movement, did a perfectly timed jeté on the same count, and smiled at the audience each time we directed our faces down stage. 

_Tombé right, pique, pique, pique, attitude devant right..._

It wasn't until out last pique, our faced turned downwards towards stage right, that I saw him.

He was sitting in the third row five seats from the end, a bright pink program held tightly in both hands as he watched the performance. His blonde hair was parted to the side, his white button down shirt and khaki pants ironed perfectly with not a single wrinkle in sight. He had a very serious expression painted over his face, completely focused on our dance on stage. Even from my position on stage, I could just make out the intense color of his bright blue eyes.

He smiled when he realized that I noticed his presence. I felt my face heat up and almost stumbled on our arabesque but caught myself in time. The song ended and we did a small bow at the end of the applause, then scurried off stage together and disappeared behind the black curtain.

The three other girls squealed with the rest of our class after we made our way back to the green room. I paid no attention to them or the other girls sitting around the table of hors d'oeuvres, munching away on baby carrots and hummus as they gossiped about this or that.

Instead, I was lost in thought, too focused on the image of those bright blue eyes and that amazing smile. What was he doing here?

I realized that there was no longer the buzz of conversation from the rest of the dancers or the occasional crunch from a bite of cheese and crackers. The girls were too busy whispering and staring wide eyed out the window of the green room. I followed their gaze and felt my heart flutter when I realized who they were all looking at.

“It’s Captain America,” I heard one girl whisper.

“Why would he be at our performance?” another asked.

I swallowed hard then made my way out the door to the lobby, mustering every ounce of courage I had left for what awaited me.

When I was only a few steps away from where he was standing, his face immediately lit up.

“Well look at you,” he said, “you did amazing.”

I felt myself blush again but ignored it.

“I didn’t expect to see you here, Steve. How did you even know I was dancing tonight?”

He shrugged, “I pay attention. Oh, these are for you, by the way.”

He pulled a bouquet of white and red carnations wrapped in delicate gold paper out to me and smiled. I was awestruck and surprised by this gesture, no one had ever given me flowers before, not even after a performance.

I gratefully took them and cradled them in my arms, “Thank you, they’re beautiful.”

I looked up at him and smiled. He blushed and stuck his hands into his pockets.

“So I was thinking we could go out for coffee or something to eat to celebrate your success. I know a couple smaller places outside of the city that make some amazing pancakes and coffee. If you’re interested.”

I looked over my shoulder back in the direction of the green room. All the dancers were pressed against the glass watching out conversation in awe. I turned my attention back to Steve and nodded.

“That sounds amazing actually.”

His smile grew wider as he stuck out his arm for me to take, and I did.

“Great. Shall we, then?”

Together we walked out of the lobby and through the large glass doors into the garden entrance of the auditorium, everyone’s eyes on us as we made our exit.

I could not care less about their questioning stairs and quiet murmurings through the crowd. Captain America just sat and watched my dance performance when I thought no one would be able to, there is nothing these people can do to destroy this happiness I feel at this moment.

 


	2. Rocks at the Window

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes bad things happen to good people. Sometimes good people are born into bad families. Sometimes, they just need good people to keep them safe and remind them of how important they are.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Hints of abuse, may be triggering
> 
> I do not own these characters.

I’m sitting in my room, with my ear buds in, my eyes shut tight as I try to block out all the thoughts. The single moment keeps playing in my mind on repeat. I am desperate for it to end.

_We should have never had you._

_You don’t belong to this family._

_You are worthless to me._

The thoughts get louder, so I attempt to drown them out by increasing the volume on my MP3. It doesn’t work. Nothing seems to work anymore. I tried to paint, but there were no images in my mind for me to put down on the canvas. I tried to read, but the sentences just didn’t stick.

There is no one to go to in the house for comfort. It’s just me and the two of them.

 

I lay in bed, my MP3 long since dead, with several blankets piled on top of me as a barrier between myself and the world. A tap on my window sends me shooting up from my bed in alarm. I wait a moment, my heart beating rapidly in my chest. I flinch when I hear another tap. _Is that a pebble?_

I quietly crawl out of my bed and carefully tiptoe to my window. I peek out of the curtains and let out a quick breath.

Standing outside of my house are three people I never expected to see this late at night.

Clint Barton is leaning against the old pine tree we planted in the front yard back when my sister used to live with us, he’s smiling up at me as he throws a pebble up and catches it in one hand. Natasha is beside him, a flannel blanket in one hand and a thermos in the other. Wanda stands on the other side of Clint, her hands are clasped tightly in front of her, a worried smile on her face.

I quickly and carefully draw back the curtains and open the window.

“What are you doing here?” I half whisper down at them.

“Why are you whispering?” Clint yells up at me.

I flinch and shake my head, “Please, don’t yell.”

“We came here for you, kid,” Natasha answers in a much quieter voice than Clint, “pack a backpack with necessities and come down here.”

“We brought hot tea,” Wanda adds with a smile.

I stand there at the window, stunned.

“I can’t just leave,” I manage to choke out, “Do you have any idea that they’ll do – what _he’ll_ do when he finds out I’m gone in the morning?”

“Oh, we now,” Clint said with a very serious look, “and we’re going to protect you.”

“We’re the Avengers,” Wanda adds with a smirk, “I think we can handle your parents.”

I can feel a lump in my throat and try to swallow it down.

“Give me five minutes,”

I close the window and rush to my bag in the corner of the room. I dump out all the school supplies inside and start filling it with clothes, my toothbrush, deodorant, my phone and chargers, a few mementos and my favorite copy of my favorite book.

I change out of my pajamas and throw those into the bag too, then slip on a pair of dark jeans and black hoodie then step into my shoes.

I turn off the light in my room and take a deep breath, then open the door and tiptoe down the hall to the stairs. I make sure to maneuver around each squeaky floorboard and step and safely make it to the front door.

As I reach out to unlock the door, the lights in the living room turn on.

My breath catches in my throat when I hear his voice.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

I turn slowly to see my father standing on the other side of the room, a belt in his hand and a frown on his face.

My brain is shouting at me to _run run run!_ but my legs won’t move.

“You think you can leave this house without me knowing about it? This is MY house.”

He takes a few steps towards me and I turn around and fumble with the lock on the door.

“You are a WORTHLESS child. I should have NEVER KEPT you.” He yells out as he keeps walking towards me, gripping the belt in his hands so tight his knuckles are white, “You think you can disrespect me? HERE? IN MY HOME?”

I finally manage to undo the locks and throw open the front door and I practically fly through it. I sprint straight ahead and nearly run straight into Wanda.

“Stay back,” She steps in front of me, shielding me with her body.

Natasha and Clint are a few feet in front of us, positioned to fight if necessary.

“Who the hell are you?” My father slurs. His face is bright red, veins protruding from his forehead and neck like they always do when he’s angry.

“You know who we are,” Natasha says coolly, “and we’re taking this kid with us.”

“You’re no good for them,” Clint adds.

My father guffaws, “ _I’m_ no good? That _disgrace_ ,” he points to me, “is no good. They’re worthless.”

“You’re wrong,” Wanda interjects, “you’re too evil to see how wonderful they are. _You_ are the disgrace.”

My father smiles, “You’re not taking them anywhere. They’re staying HERE to get the beating they deserve.”

“You’re not laying a hand on them,” Clint barks out.

My father stumbles forward and attempts to punch Clint, but both he and Natasha are too quick for him. Natasha grabs his arm and twists it behind his back. Clint kicks his legs, forcing him down on his knees.

“Now you listen here,” Clint says through gritted teeth, “we’re saving them from you, and you’re not going to stop us. If you try to pull another stunt like that again, my amazing friend here – which I should mention is a trained assassin, like myself – will break your arm. If you try to find us or the kid, she and I will hunt you down and make you wish that you never, _ever_ existed. Do I make myself perfectly clear?”

My father grunted and Natasha released him, shoving him face down into the mud.

“Good,” Clint said.

Natasha wiped her hands clean and the two turned and walked towards us. Wanda put an arm around me and turned me around in the direction of their car.

After we were safely buckled into the seats and had been driving for a few minutes, I gathered enough courage to speak.

“Thank you,” is all I was able to manage.

Clint looked into the rearview mirror and smiled.

“You’re so important and special, kid. Never let anyone make you think otherwise.”

I smiled back and rested my head back against the seat and closed my eyes.


End file.
